Just as I ended the call, my phone lit up with a message from Colin.
[Calmed down yet? I’ve arranged the cemetery and paid for the funeral. Satisfied now? Stop testing my patience.]
Another one followed almost instantly:
[Did you not see my message? Get to my office now. Sign the non-prosecution agreement for Piper.]
Something in me finally broke. I called him. My voice was shaking with rage.
“Why the hell should I sign that form for her? And if I say no, what then? You gonna press my bloody finger onto the damn paper?”
###Chapter 3
He hung up. Cold. No hesitation.
Seconds later, he sent a photo.
It was a scanned document. An investment contract signed between my mom and Piper.
Bold letters in the center screamed at me:
Investments carry risk. All losses due to personal judgment errors are the client’s own responsibility.
My mother’s signature and fingerprint sat neatly at the bottom.
He’d been preparing for this. His legal team—massive, ruthless—ready to crush me like I was nothing.
Still, I went to the Marks Corp building.
In the elevator, I ran into Piper.